


Need You Now

by tjmystic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers 3x4:  Rumple has a bad dream about Belle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need You Now

Need You Now  
madrebelhunter prompt - the song “Need You Now” by Lady Antebellum

Rating: PG-13

Author’s Note: The only thing I have to say here is this: I am so, so sorry for the angst. 

 

Mr. Gold shuffled through the hall, searching out the source of the noise that had woken him up. It was faint, all but inaudible, but Mr. Gold sensed it all the same. Crying. Someone was crying. 

“Who’s there?” he called. 

No one answered, but the crying increased in volume. He clenched his jaw and continued onward, drawn to the sliver of yellow light on the carpet ahead. His head was still groggy from sleep, but he recognized the door to his bathroom all the same. Whoever was crying had to be in there, he knew without a shadow of a doubt. 

Quietly, he sidled up to the door and eased it open just another inch. The tiles were bare, the tub and shower both empty, but a pair of legs swung over the sink. A pair of legs that he’d seen often enough to know to whom they belonged. 

“Belle.” He breathed in relief, nudging the door open the rest of the way. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She didn’t answer him. But, then, she didn’t have to – now that she was in focus, totally ensconced by light, he could see the box at her side labeled “TEST” and the bright pink stick in her hand. The meaning was clear enough without explanation. 

His body froze, bones becoming an odd mixture of steel and gelatin. “Belle,” he choked again. 

Her head jerked towards him, as if she’d only just heard him come in. Her cheeks were covered in tear tracks, and her eyes were puffy and almost the same color as the stick she held between them. 

He’d never seen her look more beautiful. 

Timidly, fearing that he’d somehow read the situation wrong, he let a smile turn up the corners of his mouth. His clumsy hand reached for her, knocking over the box to reveal the code on the back – pink for positive – and then it was all he could do to keep from collapsing on her. 

“Oh Belle,” he whispered, kissing her neck, her cheek, her collarbone, anything he could reach. “We’re going to have a baby. You’re going to be a mother.”

He felt Belle nod against his shoulder, her head bobbing up and down as he turned to kiss her jaw. He allowed himself another small smile, a soft chuckle of joy, before backing away and framing her face with his hands. 

Belle bit her lip, still holding the stick between them, and nodded again as if in a trance. “Mother,” she repeated. “I’m going to be a mother.” 

Gold laughed again, unable to keep from kissing her mouth this time, and nodded along with her. “Aye. You’re gonna be a mother, Belle. You’re gonna be such a brilliant mother. And I’m gonna be a father again.” 

He kissed her again, trying to mold his lips as tightly to hers as he possibly could. But she didn’t move at all, neither to caress him nor open so they could touch more deeply. Even her head had stopped nodding in his grip.

Confused, he backed away, forcing himself to focus on her eyes rather than her lips. Whatever shy happiness he’d begun to feel wisped away like loose sand – she was still, and cold, and her eyes were waxed over and blank. 

His fingers trembled as they graced over her brow. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but the feeling that had prickled his spine from the moment he heard her crying had started all over again.

Slowly, so minutely that that he wouldn’t have even noticed if he weren’t holding her face, Belle shook her head to the left. 

“No,” she murmured. 

His brow furrowed all the more. “No what?”

She didn’t answer him. She didn’t do anything. Not for a long, long moment where he imagined he could feel his heart pounding heavily against his ribcage. Something was wrong…

Belle took a deep breath, her feet finally stilling as they came to rest on the floor. Her face slipped from his grip as she backed away from him, the pink stick landing on her feet. Cold sweat beaded on his neck, his hands reaching out to her desperately, but, again, she only shook her head.

“No,” she repeated, backing away down the dark hall. “I’m going to be a mother. But you aren’t going to be a father.”

Gold’s heart thudded hard in his chest. “Belle,” he whimpered, following her blindly down the corridor, “what are you saying? What are you talking about, love?”

Belle quivered before him, but her pace quickened. He held his cane tight to keep up with her, trying not to lose sight of her wet eyes as she climbed down the stairs. 

“I’m leaving, Rumple. I can’t trust you.” Her hands groped at the bannister, and as the light from the hallway hit her face, he realized a look he’d never before seen in his love’s eyes. Fear. And it was him she was afraid of. “We’re better off without you.”

His pulse all but died. He reached for her again, but she was still too far away, almost at the door now while he was still on the stairs. 

“You can’t mean that,” he begged. “You can’t. You’ve always seen good in me. Please, Belle, I’ve changed.”

His darling Belle shook her head no. “You haven’t. You’re still just as vile as you always were. Nothing you can do will change that. Nothing I can do will make you better.” 

The door swung wide at her back, slamming against the wall without her even needing to touch it. He was close now, close enough that he could hold her if she’d just stop moving. The realization had barely crossed his mind when Belle reached towards him, briefly curling her hand around the nape of his neck. For a moment, he hoped that everything could still be salvaged, that her touch somehow meant she could forgive him. But then she was jerking away from him, tears and hate and so much fear pricking at her eyes. 

His vision went foggy, dulled by the tears that threatened to spill on him, but he surged forward all the same, more worried about comforting her than soothing himself. His foot touched the border between his entry hall and the porch, arms outstretched to take her and make everything okay. 

And then something wet trickled down his neck, and his feet were glued in place. 

Squid ink. He knew it was squid ink even without seeing the blue shimmer encompass his body, or the grey slime slide down his chest. She’d immobilized him. 

“Belle!” he shouted, the tears finally falling down his face. “Belle, please, come back!” 

Her shoulders shook with sobs, but she didn’t answer his call. She shook her head blindly, unaware of the cars passing on the street before them, as she took another step towards the sidewalk.

“You’ll never change,” she sobbed. “Goodbye, Rumple.”

The moment she turned away from him, the moment he saw the flash of light round the corner of their street, he knew what was going to happen. He knew, even without the screeching tires, the squeal of metal on flesh, or the last, breathless cry of his sweet Belle and the child she held in her womb. And unable to move from his spot, he was forced to watch as the life bled from both of them, close enough for him to see every scrap of hate in her eyes but too far away to bring her back. 

Belle was dead. Bae, dead. Henry, dead. And there was nothing to swallow him up, to relieve him of his misery. He would live forever with the memory of what he’d done.

 

Gold jolted awake, chest coated in cold sweat and hair mussed in every direction. His hands reached forward automatically, willing to pull Belle from the wreckage even if it wouldn’t do any good. 

But the only purchase his fingers found was the sand and dirt around his campfire. 

He blinked frantically, clearing his vision of the wreckage on the street. In the faint light of the fire, he could begin to make out the shapes of trees, and roots, and vines. Neverland. He was still in Neverland. Belle wasn’t pregnant, wasn’t with him, and, for the time being, wasn’t dead. It had all been a bad dream. 

He sighed, relaxing once more against the log he’d nodded off on. And then the tears pricked his eyes, and he hunched his shoulders as the painted his face. 

It was a dream, but it might as well have been one of his visions. His own son didn’t believe in him. His own son didn’t love him. He’d be a fool to think that someone as kind, and wonderful, and amazing as Belle ever could. 

Sobs wracked his body, unhindered now by dreams or restraints, and he didn’t even try to resist their pull to collapse on his side like a child. He’d always known that this was the price of being good. That trying his hardest would only result in him losing the most. And he’d always known that once he started trying to be good, he wouldn’t be able to stop – even honor was a nasty habit. Whether it killed him or not, he was bound to continue. 

And what use was there in living when there was nothing to live for?

“Rumple?”

Gold’s eyes slammed shut at the voice. Not now. She couldn’t be here now. 

A slim finger caressed his scalp, drawing through his hair just as soothingly as Belle’s would have. 

“Don’t cry, Rum,” she cooed, leaning over him until her body blanketed his. “Don’t cry. I’m here.”

He tried to laugh, a bitter, sickening thing that burnt his lungs, but it choked in his throat. 

“No you aren’t. You’ve never really been here.” 

Her hand curled around his, pulling it from his face to rest on her breasts. She was a vision, a fact he knew well enough, but he could still feel her heartbeat, and still feel the warm, supple flesh beneath her dress. 

“Do I feel like I’m not here?” she asked. 

Gold blinked open his eyes, heavy from the tears he’d been suppressing. He’d intended to ask her to leave. To tell her again that he didn’t want her here since she only reminded him of how truly alone he was. But the moment he saw her face, pale and bright and loving instead of afraid, his resolve flew out the window. 

Heaving, he yanked her down onto him, opening her mouth carelessly with his tongue and rolling her onto her back. His sick imagination had supplied him with the exact scent of her hair, the precise way her chest rose and fell when he kissed her, and he couldn’t keep himself from giving in even if he tried. She’d proven time and time again that he could get drunk on just a taste of her - he only prayed that this sordid night would be enough to drown him entirely.

She’d already abandoned him, whether she knew it or not. It was only a matter of time. But, for now, he would take her and hold her like he’d always dreamed of doing. He needed her. In his imagination, he cold pretend she needed him, too.

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t actually here, nor that the real one would eventually leave him just like the Belle in his nightmare. What mattered was that he could touch her, hold her, and pretend for just one more moment in his worthless life that he could be loved.


End file.
